The Forrest City times., 1887-11-26
CHATTER LIV.

He knew the whole story now in all it's sad detail, the cruel treachery of Lady Perth, the madness of misery into which his beautiful young wife had been plunged; he understood all she had felt and sacrificed in allowing her self to be thought dead--her generosity in preferring imprisonment rather than bring the least shadow on her daugh- ter's life.
 "You are noble woman, Marguer- ite," he repeated; then he drew her nearer to him; he took off the prison cap and flung 1t on the ground; he caressed with loving hands the rings of golden cu-ls.
 My Margueritel" he cried passion atoly. You look as young and beau- tiful as when 1 first saw you at Inisfail. Oh, love. if we could live our lives over again all would be so different. Oh, love! will you forgive me-will you let the past be plotted out-will you take It as it is-will you let me begin life again with you and let me atone to you for the past!"
 For all answer she laid her arms rouad his neck and kissed him. A great light came over Lord Stairs face, and in that moment the past was for gotten, huu lub new llib DcRdn.
 To Lord Stair, the darkest part of the who,e business was that he could not take his wife away with him. The usual routine had to be gone through, the whole matter was laid before the proper authorities, and in due course of time Lady Stair was released.
 
 Not at once did Lord Stair tell tho story to his daughter; she did not know it for some months. He evaded all her inquiries about Mrs. Grey, and told her that in time the whole mystery would be solved for her.
 He did the wisest thing under the circumstances; he went abroad and took luis beautiful wife with him. Then, in the summertime, he returned with her to 0akclitie. The time had come in which he thought it wise to tell his daughter the story.
 What she felt. what she thought, could never be told. She was dis tracted between love, admiration, and regret. A hundred times each day she would kiss her, weep over her, and cry out that she was the most beautiful mother in the world. A hundred times each day she would kiss the sweet face of Marguerite Lady Stair, and cry out to her:
 You went to prison to save me, to save me. Oh, mother, there is nothing so precious in all the world to me as you are."
 The Duke of Meath was not long in recovering himself. He soon learned almost to worship his beautiful mother in-law. By degrees tine story became known, but no one quite understood 1t, simply because no one held the clew to it. Darcy Este was dead and forgotten tho brief story of his love was never told. Even when Lady Stair told every detail of her life to her daughter she dwelt lightly on that. The wonder of it died away, as all wonders die; only the happiness remained.
 It was the most beautiful sight in the world to see mother and daughter, the two faces both so lovely, yet so differ ent-Lady Stair so fair and sweet, the duchess with all the dark bright love- Illness of the Stairs; they never tired of each other, and the duchess would pro- claim triumphantly how true her in stinct had been.
 My heart went out to you, mother" she would say. ''when 1 saw you look ing at the bluebells through the gates"
 It was to stt luc KItdl loNc between the two. The sensation of the event was when the Marchioness of Holte heard what had happened, and went over to Oakcliie to see if it were true. The meeting between the mar chioness and Lady Stair was scene never to be forgotten.
 The day came, also, when Lord Stair gave back to mother and daughter the lockets, set in diamonds, which had be- longed to them, and as the sunbeams flashed once more in the brilliant gems, mother and child kissed each other.
 The most touching scene was when Lord Stair took his wife to Inisfail, where Cyril Marine, grown old and feeble, still lived. They could never make him understand who she was Le thought it was his own wife come back from Paradise to fetch him. They all made much or him, loved and esteemed him, but he had forgotten everything except the songs of Paradise. He loved the duchess-the third Daisy hs had called her once-but he was always puzzled as to who she was, ne could never quite understand.
 "Duchess Ethel,' he called her. and he would say 10 her, ''sihg Dsfsy's song to me-" and she would sing to him of the beautiful Paradise, Whore the many find rect; of which his fayer. ite lines are these-
 'on Pera1isel o PsrsdisaI
 feei twill not be iarEf
 Patisneei almost tA3ak hssg
 at fas4fFN Isa s4ff Y ..